Blindsided
by DarkUnderworld
Summary: "The knees of Michelangelo's jeans were quickly soaked through with the blood that pooled around his brother's battered, motionless body." Sometimes, some things stike without warning or notcie leaving you...blindsided.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey all, Dark here with a brand new fic! And for those of you wondering about the other fics I've got going on, don't worry, I will be updating all of them soon:)**

**A big giant thank you as always to Amonraphoeninx for taking the time out of her very busy schedual and beta reading this chapter, and for giving me the idea for this fic, and then letting me twist it for my own nefarious purposes. You are totally the best friend ever!XD**

**Also don't own TMNT, (but i really, really wish I did;) **

**please enjoy!**

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Chapter 1

**Raphael** yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It was just after dinner, and he was still dragging his ass. He had managed to catch a few minutes sleep after training in the dojo before he had been poked awake by Leonardo, who had informed him it was time to get ready to go out for patrol. It had been a long, late night the night before and Leonardo had woke him up way before he was ready to be up in the morning for more training.

"Stupid training." Raphael growled under his breath. It had been three years since Master Splinter had passed away, and Leonardo had still not dealt well with their father's passing. They all had their good days and bad days, but Leonardo's normally intense, and focused personality seemed to have been turned up a notch. Raphael wondered if Leonardo even had fun anymore, because he swore he hadn't seen him smile in years.

Raphael flicked the light on in the bathroom and walked in, still half asleep. He closed the door behind him, hoping that a shower would be able to wake him up so that he would be able to get through tonight's patrol without falling asleep halfway through it. This was not the first time that he wished he could stand the taste of coffee like Donatello did, because then he could just have a cup and it would perk him right up. As it was, he was only going on four hours of sleep, and the chances of him seeing his bed before 2am was looking rather slim at the moment.

He turned on the shower and threw his clean clothes beside the sink. He then slid out of his sweat soaked training clothes, and stepped into the warm water. He watched the water pool around his feet before he grabbed his body wash and loofah. It was such a girly thing, but he found that regular soap tended to dry out his skin, which would then flake and become itchy. April had suggested the body wash and the loofah, and after a month of staring at it, had finally decided to give it a try and found that it actually had helped.

He worked the loofah into a good lather and began washing his arms. He moved up washing his shoulders, neck and chest before he realized that something was wrong. He frowned as he washed the soapy lather from his skin. Under the soap his skin had turned a brilliant shade of cerulean blue. He stared at his arms in shock for a few minutes turning off the water and opening the shower door, stumbling out to find his towel. He pulled his towel from the rack and something small, black, and hairy flew up, hitting him in the face.

He let out a yelp of fear as the spider bounced off his blue coloured plastron. He jumped back, slipping on the wet tiled floor. His hand lashed out managing to catch the shower curtain, pulling it down on top of him before his carapace struck the ground with a jarring crack.

Raphael lay on the floor, stunned for a few minutes as he stared at the spider that had fallen to the floor, and which now remained there unmoving. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the rubber spider, his head turning to look at the blue foamy residue that covered the walls and floor of the shower stall. He pulled the shower curtain away revealing his arms and plastron, still tinged blue.

He was sick of it! The constant teasing, pranks, and spider and bug gags from Michelangelo. Yesterday Raphael had been pouring a bowl of cereal and a cockroach had tumbled into his bowl. He had jumped back, tipping his chair backwards and falling onto the floor; Michelangelo's laughter echoing throughout the kitchen. The cockroach had been rubber, which had made Raphael feel like an idiot.

And just last week Michelangelo had fiddled with the radio station on Raphael's bike so it only played classical music.

And the week before that, his baby brother had somehow switched his ringtone so that when Michelangelo called, it played _'Man, I feel like a Woman'_ by Shania Twain.

Even worse, was discovering that Michelangelo had changed his ringtone for April to _'The power of Love'_ by Jennifer Rush.

He had been out with Casey scouring the streets for trouble when April, unable to get a hold of Casey - whose phone was dead - had called Raphael's phone. Suddenly the lyrics:

_The whispers in the morning  
Of lovers sleeping tight  
Are rolling like thunder now  
As I look in your eyes_

I hold onto your body  
And feel each move you make  
Your voice is warm and tender  
A love that I could not forsake

Had begun playing.

And the worst part was he couldn't seem to find his phone to answer it. Finally he managed to fumble it out of his backpack -even though he always kept his phone in his jean's pocket- it had made it into his backpack because Michelangelo had put it there. The ring tone was embarrassing, but when he found out that it was his ringtone for April, it went beyond embarrassing to horrifying and dangerous.

Casey had been furious, wondering why _that_ particular song was April's ringtone, and if Raphael had feelings for April that went beyond just friendship. He had to spend the rest of the night trying to convince Casey that he and April were only friends and that Michelangelo was obviously pranking him and trying to stir up trouble. So not only had Raphael been extremely embarrassed, but Casey still watched him like a hawk around April.

He ground his teeth together, his previous weariness forgotten as hot, furious anger rolled like a monstrous tidal wave through him.

He was done. He was so far past done, it wasn't even funny.

"**MIKEY**!" He roared at the top of his lungs.

* * *

**Michelangelo** heard his brother's angry, indignant bellow come from the bathroom. He grinned with glee, glad that his prank had worked.

It was even a twofer.

Donatello had been experimenting in the lab and had made a liquid that had the unfortunate side effect of causing skin to turn blue. Michelangelo had no idea what Donatello had invented it for, or what it was supposed to do, but to Michelangelo it screamed 'prank'.

Donatello had informed him that the substance was perfectly safe, but unusable for whatever purpose he had in mind for it. And so Michelangelo had decided to slip it into Raphael's body wash. He knew that his hotheaded brother was the only one who used it, and knew that the dye would wear off in a few hours and actually dissolved completely if the skin was submerged in lemon juice. So the effects weren't permanent, but would no doubt be hilarious for a few hours.

And the spider gag with Raphael just never got old. Michelangelo could listen to Raphael's high pitched, girly scream every day, twenty four seven; because that is how his big brother sounded every single time he saw a spider or any bug for that matter.

The door to the bathroom was suddenly flung open with a loud bang as it smashed against the wall. Raphael stood there, bare-chested, and only wearing a pair of jeans. His plastron, neck and arms had all been streaked a beautiful, brilliant shade of blue mixed with emerald green streaks. Every line of Raphael's body was pulled tight, his chest heaving with barely controlled rage.

Michelangelo was attempting to keep his vantage point hidden, but he wasn't able to help the rolling sound of unbridled laughter that bubbled up and out of his mouth. He collapsed to the floor, clutching at his stomach, unable to restrain his mirth.

"Mikey!" Raphael roared. "I've had it with your pranks! That was the last straw!" Raphael ran towards Michelangelo, who instinctively rolled to his feet and bolted.

Self preservation propelled Michelangelo's legs forward as he made a mad dash for the entrance of the lair.

"Mikey, get back here!" Raphael shouted at his retreating shell. "This is the last time you are EVER going to play your stupid rubber spider jokes on me, and…" His brother's voice was lost. He was pretty sure Raphael was at least pulling on a pair of boots, maybe even grabbing his jacket.

Michelangelo had already been prepared for his flight and he made it out of the lair in record time.

He figured he would lose Raphael in the sewers and he would head to April's apartment and hang out with her and Casey -if he was over- maybe even watch a few movies to kill some time. He'd call Leonardo or Donatello before he headed home, just to make sure Raphael had finally calmed down enough to _not_ kill him. If not, he would just spend the night at April's apartment.

He knew that Leonardo would not be happy that he had pulled the prank that had basically interrupted his plans for going on patrol tonight, but listening to a lecture from Leonardo was totally worth seeing Raphael dyed blue and hearing his girly scream of terror.

He slowed his pace slightly, a joyous grin still plastered on his face. Michelangelo zig-and zagged through the sewer tunnels heading in the general direction of April's apartment.

The smile fell from his face and he frowned when he heard heavy, running steps behind him. He would have thought that his brother would have given up by now. Michelangelo shrugged and ran faster, rounding a corner and scurrying up the metal rungs of a ladder that led to the surface.

He moved the man-hole cover and pulled himself out into a deserted alley. He took a quick look around and pulled himself out, sliding the cover back into place.

The darkened alley was still over a dozen blocks away from April's apartment, and he knew he was closer to the lair. Michelangelo grinned, knowing that his brother would believe that he was heading for April's apartment, so he decided to double back on the surface before heading home. That way his older brother would be searching for him half the night, while Michelangelo was home, sitting in front of the TV, playing video games.

The cover by his foot suddenly moved and Michelangelo let out a yelp of surprise. He hadn't realized the Raphael had gotten so close.

Michelangelo ran, not paying attention to the direction he was going anymore, just trying to get away as fast as he could from his furious brother's golden, molten gaze; which he managed to catch a glimpse of before he bolted.

* * *

**Raphael** pulled himself from out of the manhole, just managing to catch a glimpse of Michelangelo's booted feet before he ran.

Raphael darted after his brother, his fury driving him forward. He had managed to throw on a leather jacket and a pair of boots before furiously following him out of the lair and into the sewers.

The darkness of the night swallowed up his brother's rapidly moving figure as he darted and snaked through a series of back alleyways.

He wanted to shout out his brother's name and tell him that he was going to get his vengeance. Raphael's mind was already planning out the biggest, cruelest revenge he could think of. He was going to pull the breaker in the lair, plunging it into darkness and making sure everyone else was gone before locking the lair up tight. Then Michelangelo would be left all alone in the dark; which were Michelangelo's two biggest fears. On top of that, he was going to give his baby brother a beating he wouldn't soon forget.

Of course his jaw was clenched so tightly in anger that he wasn't even able to open his mouth to yell, threaten or even snarl out any words at all at his brother's retreating shell.

He silently pursued his baby brother with a steady, measured, but rapid pace; planning on breaking out into a full out run when he managed to gain enough ground on his brother to spot him.

Michelangelo had been heading for April's apartment, but now it looked like his brother had been scared enough to just run, and not pay any attention to where he was headed.

Suddenly his phone began playing "_When a Man Loves a Woman_", by Michael Bolton.

_When a man loves a woman_

_Can't keep his mind on nothin' else_

Raphael dug his phone out of his pocket as he continued to run. He knew that it would be April, because his baby brother tended to have an occasional malicious streak in regards to his pranks. Michelangelo had thought it was hilarious that Casey would think there was anything going on between Raphael and April. And it looked like Michelangelo was doing the same prank again, trying to get Raphael into trouble with Casey.

Raphael looked at the call display and sure enough it was April's picture and name on the screen.

_He'd trade the world_

_For the good thing he's found_

Raphael rounded a corner, not paying attention to where he was going or what was going on in front of him._  
_

Headlights blinded him as tires squealed and the smell of burning rubber assaulted his nostrils. Pain exploded through every nerve, muscle, and bone of his body before an all consuming darkness engulfed him whole.

* * *

**Michelangelo** ran, a grin breaking out across his face as he heard Raphael's cell phone beginning to play the Michael Bolton song he had put as his brother's new ringtone for April last night. Michelangelo thought that it was hilarious that Casey would suddenly think Raphael had feelings for April; particularly since they had known her since they were young teenagers and she was five years older than they were. Of course, they weren't teenagers anymore, they were all twenty-three, and April was twenty-eight and had been dating Casey on and off for the past three and a half years.

So Michelangelo had changed Raphael's ringtone again, just to see what would happen and to stir up a little bit of trouble. That and it was _Michael Bolton_, which was even better because it was so embarrassing.

Michelangelo heard the high pitched squeal of rubber tires trying to brake on asphalt and the sickening thud of something hard, yet yielding, being hit by unforgiving metal.

The Michael Bolton song was suddenly cut short, and then there was nothing but eerie silence.

Michelangelo's steps slowed as he turned, icy dread suddenly crawling along his spine. "Raph?" He questioned, his voice echoing off the brick walls of the alley. "Come on, Raph, this isn't funny." He said as he began slowly walking back the way he had come. "It was just a garbage can… or-or maybe a garbage bag..." Michelangelo said to himself softly, trying to convince himself that the sound he had just heard had not been his brother being struck by a vehicle.

"Raph's too fast and alert." His voice shook as he continued to talk to himself out loud. "There's no way a car hit him." Michelangelo broke into a run, because the thought '_unless he was distracted' _popped unwanted into his head.

Michelangelo rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks. He saw the back of a blue pickup truck, stopped, with its lights on. The sick ball of dread that had been sliding up his spine had now slipped down his throat and curled up into a little heavy ball in his stomach.

"Raph?" He called out quietly as he slowly made his way around the side of the truck. The driver of the truck - a young man – lay with his head against the deployed air-bag. Michelangelo slid his hand through the open driver's side window. His fingers shook slightly but he was able to feel the strong pulse beneath his fingertips. The human was unconscious, a slight cut on his head, but appeared free from serious injury.

Michelangelo then turned his unwilling eyes towards the hood of the truck, which was nothing but a hunk of twisted metal. Steam rose slightly from the engine; the cold chill of the night making it slightly thicker than it would normally have been, obscuring his view of the alley straight in front of him.

Michelangelo took a step towards the front of the truck, his foot hitting something and sending it clattering a few inches away. He looked down and spotted Raphael's cell phone; at least what was left of it.

Michelangelo bent down and picked up the broken piece of plastic, metal and glass with a shaking hand. He swallowed down the lump of horror that rose up in his throat choking him. He lifted his head slightly and caught sight of a black combat boot a few feet to his right. Michelangelo stumbled over to the bloodied boot; Raphael's boot lying on the asphalt knocked off from the force of the impact.

He shook his head in denial as he stumbled towards the shadowy lump that was curled into a ball, having been tossed against the side of a dumpster.

"Raphie?" He tried again as the steam cleared enough that his brother's broken body was revealed. His eyes took in each and every single detail, but it was as if his mind was unable to process the horror of what he was seeing. It was then that his brain absorbed everything all at once, and he had to place a steadying hand on the warm hood of the truck to stop his legs from collapsing beneath him.

"Oh, God." He whimpered out in shocked horror, running to his brother's side and falling to his knees beside him. The knees of Michelangelo's jeans were quickly soaked through with the blood that pooled around his brother's battered, motionless body.

Raphael lay on his plastron, his face turned slightly away. Michelangelo's hands hovered over Raphael limp form, but he was too afraid to even touch his brother to assess the damage. His eyes moved over the scratches, and dark bruises that were already forming. He ignored the smaller injuries, and instead, focused on the ones that looked the most serious.

Blood ran down the side of his brother's cheek from a deep laceration that ran over his temple, blood gushing from his nostrils. Michelangelo felt his stomach roll at the sight of the blood that was still creeping slowly across the pavement. Black spots danced before his eyes as he forced his gaze downwards. All he could see from this angle was that his one leg looked like it was bent at an odd angle.

Michelangelo gently reached out and carefully rolled his brother onto his carapace. His brother's ripped and torn jacket fell open, revealing spider-web cracks that ran across his brother's plastron. His terrified gaze shot to his brother's face. His fingers quickly checked for a pulse at his brother's throat. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn't even tell if his brother's heart was beating or not. He took a few deep breaths to calm his rapidly beating heart and managed to detect a slight flutter beneath his fingertips.

His brother suddenly shifted, moaning in agonizing pain.

Michelangelo's eyes flew to his brother's face; twin trails of bloody tears trailing down his pale cheeks."Raphie?" Michelangelo questioned, his voice shaking with too many overwhelming emotions. He wasn't sure if he was more worried or scared at the moment, but the fear left an almost metallic taste in his mouth.

Raphael didn't answer, only managing to choke out a small stream of blood, which bubbled up from between his brother's lips. His eyes opened slightly revealing agony filled golden eyes tinted with crimson.

Michelangelo waited a desperate moment, hoping his brother would tell him that he was okay, and just stand, shaking off the accident with a wry smirk and comforting punch on the shoulder. But instead, his brother only grimaced and let out a soft, agonized whimper that stopped Michelangelo's heart cold. Raphael never let on how hurt or in pain he was...ever.

Michelangelo realized that his brother was in too much pain to tell him what to do to help him; which meant he was all on his own.

His fingers swiftly reached around to his back pocket, intent on calling Leonardo and Donatello for help, when he heard the high pitched wail of police cars and noticed a slight movement of the airbag in cab of the truck.

Michelangelo looked around him in horror, realizing that he was going to have to try to move his severely injured brother.

"You're gonna be okay, Raphie. Okay? Just… just try to...to hold on." Michelangelo begged his brother as he slowly gathered Raphael up carefully into his arms.

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**Thoughts and opinions always welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello all! Alrighty chapter 2 is up! Thank you again to Amonraphoenix for beta reading this chapter for me! YOu are awesome!:D**

**Also a big thank you to my reviewers Diana Fay, no more love, raph'sgirl4ever, Aster Sapphire, I love Kittens too, and Vertical Fall**

**now please enjoy:)**

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Chapter 2

**Michelangelo** looked around in horror, his mind fighting to stay calm and to not give into his panic. His heart was thumping too rapidly in his chest and he was breathing too quickly. His head spun, becoming light headed and dizzy.

There was another movement from the truck coupled with a slight moan.

Michelangelo gathered himself up and swallowed down his panic. He had to move Raphael and move him fast.

He looked down at his brother whose eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and gasping. And although Raphael's eyes were closed, Michelangelo had the distinct impression that Raphael was still conscious, despite the agonizing pain he was probably experiencing.

He knew he shouldn't move his brother, knew that it was the absolute worst possible thing he could do, but at the same time, they couldn't be seen by the human. He knew he didn't have a choice. He lifted his brother up under his armpits to try to pull him up. Raphael tensed his body going rigid with pain, flinching back from Michelangelo's gentle touch as he let out a strangled cry of agony.

Michelangelo nearly dropped his brother back to the ground, but fought against this instinct and dragged his brother deeper into the shadows. He knew he needed to get Raphael to safety as fast as he could, and get Donatello to treat their brother's injuries.

He gritted his teeth together, tears silently running down his cold cheeks, and pulled Raphael further into the concealing darkness. He looked around desperately for a manhole cover but the only one he had seen was located under the front tire of the truck that had struck Raphael.

He moved his brother down another side alley and up towards the street.

Raphael choked back another cry of pain as Michelangelo tried to ignore the sharp tang of blood that filled the air. Michelangelo lay Raphael back down and spoke to his brother softly as he quickly checked over his brother's injuries. Raphael's leg was definitely broken, and one of his arms hung slightly lower than the other one, meaning it was probably dislocated. Blood ran down his cheek from a deep laceration. More blood had dribbled down his chin and Michelangelo was praying that Raphael had only bit his tongue and that the blood wasn't coming from an internal injury. Raphael had a few other superficial scrapes and cuts covered his face, and hands and bruises were beginning to bloom just under his brother's pale skin, still dyed blue in places.

He opened his brother's jacket and cringed in horror at the sight of spider wed cracks that ran across the surface of Raphael's plastron. His eyes strayed to his brother's side and to a large gash that was bleeding profusely.

He felt black spots begin to dance before his eyes at the sight of the blood and had to bite his own tongue to snap himself back into focus. He pulled off his hoodie and yanked his t-shirt up and over his head. He balled the fabric up and pressed it into his brother's side.

Raphael let out a whimper of pain and Michelangelo let out a choked sob that that was supposed to be an apology as he pressed down harder. Once the bleeding seemed to slow Michelangelo gathered himself up enough to talk.

"Put pressure on this, 'kay." He told his semi-conscious brother as he stood, snagging his hoodie up from the ground and dragging it over his head before dashing up the alley to the road to get his bearings. He hadn't been paying attention to where he had been running before the accident. He spotted a manhole cover across the street in an adjacent alley. He knew if he could get Raphael to the manhole he would be able to drag his injured brother…

His mind screeched to a jarring halt at this thought. He would have to try to pull his severely injured -possibly dying brother- through the manhole cover and try not to dump him into the filth of the sewers below.

Michelangelo bit back a sob of despair and frustration. He couldn't do it, not alone. He knew he was still too close to the site of the accident. The sound of sirens that rang through the air may not be heading towards the accident, but even if they were, he didn't want to move Raphael anymore.

He reached into his back pocket to pull out his phone, only his phone wasn't there. He felt a fission of dread work its way across his entire body as he frantically patted all of his pockets repeatedly and found no sign of his phone.

His mind flashed to the image of him putting his phone down on the counter to charge. He felt light-headed for a moment as he realized that he couldn't even call his brothers for help.

His chest tightened in fear and he doubled over as he began to hyperventilate. He knew he had to get himself under control but no matter how many times his mind shouted at his body to get a hold of himself, it was like his body wasn't listening.

An agonized whimper slammed him back into reality and he looked back at his brother's broken and battered body. He rushed back over to his brother's side. "It's okay Raphie, I'm gonna get you some help, 'kay? So just...just hang in there." He soothed, his voice shaking with panic he looked around as if in doing so, he would find the solution to his problem.

He blinked as a street sign caught his attention. He realized that he was only three blocks from Aprils' apartment, which meant it was at least twenty blocks to the lair. If he could get Raphael to April's apartment, April would be able to help Raphael, and Michelangelo would be able to call Donatello and get his genius brother to come to April's.

His shoulders slumped slightly. Three blocks was a long way to have to haul Raphael, especially because his brother was so much heavier than he was. And he knew that moving him was the worst thing he could do. He briefly thought about hiding Raphael and going himself to April's house, grabbing April and her van and coming back to get Raphael so that he wouldn't be injured further. But the thought of leaving his brother to possibly bleed to death, alone in a darkened alley turned his stomach and made little black spots of horror dance before his eyes.

He took a deep breath. "Sorry, Raphie." Michelangelo whispered to his brother, trying to ignore the blood that covered his brother's face and trickled from between his lips. "This is gonna hurt, but I'm getting you help, okay?" Michelangelo didn't wait for a reply, and instead scooped his brother up in his arms. Michelangelo let out a strained gasp, trying not to drop his brother, but his arms were already beginning to shake with effort.

He walked a few steps, trying to block out his brother's gurgling, gasping breaths of pain laced agony. "Just a little further, Raphie, I promise." Michelangelo lied as he made it to the mouth of the alley, looking both ways, before trying to dash cross the street. The street was deserted for which he was thankful for. He made his way across the street, his heart pounding painfully in his chest, the blood rushing noisily through his ears drowning out any other sounds.

He managed to make it across the street without dropping his brother, but he had to set him down before his tense body slipped from his grip. Michelangelo was breathing heavily, but knew that he had to keep going. The faster he was able to get Raphael to April's, the faster his brother would be treated. He looked down at Raphael's face, too pale beneath the blood and bruises that were beginning to form.

"-ikey..." Raphael managed to rasp out as blood bubbled up from between his lips.

"I know, Raph, I know." Michelangelo soothed, his voice breaking slightly as he gently touched his brother's cold cheek.

"Listen I...I'm going to be right back, okay? I won't be long, I promise." He told his brother as he pulled him a little further into the alley, tucking him in behind a dumpster and arranging a few garbage bags and cardboard to hide his brother's broken form.

The blaring wail of the sirens was getting uncomfortably close, and now there was more than just one. He needed to make sure that the way to April's apartment was still clear and he needed to find out what was going on so that he could find out how close the police were going to get.

Michelangelo darted back down the way he had come. He knew that he hadn't made it that far away from the accident. He watched two squad cars slowly drive past, a spotlight sweeping past the alley as Michelangelo quickly pulled back into the shadows.

He looked back down the alley where he had stashed Raphael and noticed another squad car had pulled up and two officers stepped out of the car and Michelangelo was just able to hear the bolo that had been issued.

_"Suspect seen fleeing from the scene. Vehicle was reported stolen earlier this evening. Large amount of blood found at the scene, possible homicide victim taken from the crash area."_

Michelangelo's breath caught in his throat as the officers began shining flashlights down the alley.

Michelangelo swallowed down a fearful yelp of distress and bolted silently up a convenient drain pipe. He knew he needed to get out of sight before the police managed to spot him and then he would have to lead the officers away on a merry chase. As he got to the rooftop and surveyed the officers below, poking through the garbage and getting ever closer to Raphael's hiding spot, he believed that this would be a distinct possibility anyway.

The officers were getting too close. Michelangelo couldn't see Raphael from his vantage point, but he knew where his brother was hidden and if Raphael made any noise now, the officers would hear him.

He cursed under his breath and ducked back, running towards where the officers had parked their cruiser and ran down the fire escape. He pulled his hood up over his head and kicked a can across the asphalt. The officers turned and Michelangelo ran as they turned.

He heard the shouted orders to stop, but Michelangelo didn't stop, he ran, the officers following as he ducked down another alley quickly making his way up to the rooftop before circling back to Raphael.

Michelangelo hopped down another fire escape and ducked behind a dumpster as the police officers ran towards their cruiser.

"They got him." One officer said to the other.

"Yeah and I guess we can call off the search for whoever the guy hit, blood's not human. They think he probably hit a big dog. Must have managed to get away somehow, maybe someone found it and took it to a vet. Whatever the case, it's not our problem. We got a call of a domestic disturbance over on 48th." The other officer said as they both got in the cruiser and drove off.

Michelangelo let out a sigh of relief as the cruiser drove off. He pulled himself from behind the dumpster and quickly ran to the other side, pulling the garbage bags and cardboard from around his brother. Raphael remained motionless as he removed the final piece of cardboard.

Raphael lay exactly as he had left him, leaning against the wall; head flopped slightly forward and to the side, his face a sickly shade of grey-green.

"Raph?" Michelangelo asked as icy terror gripped his heart squeezing it so tightly Michelangelo swore that his heart actually ceased to beat. Michelangelo fell to his knees in front of his brother. "No, nonononono!" Michelangelo whimpered shaking his head back and forth in denial. The thought that he had just left his brother -abandoned and alone- to die in a filth strew alley surrounded by garbage, raked guilt y claws of remorse through his mind and tore his soul to shreds. He let out a choked sob as he reached out a shaky hand to check his brother's pulse.

His hand was shaking so badly that he couldn't even tell if there was a pulse. "Come on, Raphie. Please, please be alive." He pleaded to his brother just as he felt the faint flutter of a pulse beneath his numb fingertips.

Relief flooded through him as he closed his eyes in grateful relief, giving silent thanks to the universe that Raphael was still alive; at least for now.

Determination flooded through him as he gently picked his bother up again. He miraculously managed to make it the other two blocks to April's apartment without dropping his brother, or being seen. The process had been onerous and slow, each minute that had passed was one minute too long, but now his brother's salvation stood in front of him. He pulled his brother's body close to his plastron, his arms burning with effort and fatigue as he quickly made his way up the fire escape and to the window that April always left unlocked for them.

Michelangelo shifted his brother lowering him to the metal grated walkway and slid the window open, not even bothering with his customary knock.

He ducked his head into the apartment. "April!" He called out, his voice containing a desperate, frenzied edge. The apartment was silent, still, and dark. Michelangelo felt his heart sink into his gut with the realization that April wasn't home. He swallowed down a sob of frustration and helplessness before giving himself a mental shake. At least Raphael was somewhere safe and there was a phone. He could call Donatello and Raphael would get the medical treatment he needed.

He pulled his head out of the window and carefully picked Raphael up, stepping backwards and through the opening into April's living room, pulling Raphael in after him. He managed to make it to the couch and carefully laid Raphael down.

Straightening, he turned on the lights in the living room. He found the cordless phone and darted to the bathroom looking for a first aid kit. He put the phone to his ear, calling Donatello as he rooted around through April's cupboards.

"Where is it?!" He growled as he was unable to come up with a first aid kit, only managing to find a couple boxes of band aids and some feminine products. He hesitated a moment before grabbing the band aids, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. He took two steps towards the living room, turned back around, grabbing the box of feminine products and ran back to the living room.

Donatello finally answered his cell. "Mikey, if this is you calling trying to get me to smooth things out with Leo because you and Raph bailed on partol-"

"Donny!" Michelangelo's panicked voice interrupted his brother. "Raph's hurt!"

Donatello paused. "How bad?" He asked his voice grave and containing and edge of worry.

"I don't know." Michelangelo admitted truthfully as he stared down at Raphael.

"What do you mean you don't know?! Mikey, what happened?" Donatello's sharp voice demanded.

"He was hit by a truck." Michelangelo replied as he knelt down beside Raphael, checking his brother's pulse again.

"Mikey," Donatello's voice was gentle but insistent. "How fast was the truck going?"

"I don't know, 30 maybe, I didn't see it happen. I'm at April's apartment, she isn't here, and I don't know what to do!" He wailed into the phone. Tears began to stream unbidden down his cheeks as he began to ramble. "Raph's unconscious, and he's grey, and he's bleeding… I think his leg is broken and his arm is dislocated and his…Oh, God..." Michelangelo whispered in horror as he pulled his brother's bloody coat away from his plastron. The bleeding hadn't stopped. Michelangelo looked at his bloody t-shirt that he had used to staunch the bleeding from Raphael's side in horror.

"Mikey?! Mikey what's-?"

"Donny! J-just get here as fast as you can, a-and bring blood, lots of blood; everything you got t-to, to keep someone alive." He stammered hanging up the phone as he pulled the blood drenched t-shirt away, from the laceration that was still bleeding profusely. He put the t-shirt back, knowing that it was saturated and could no longer hold any more blood.

_Raph's gonna die, Raph's gonna die, Raph's gonna die!_

These words ran through his head over and over again as he looked around desperately, his eyes falling upon April's sewing machine, pressed up against the wall. He leapt to his feet and ran to the machine, grabbing out a spool of thread, a needle, and a pair of scissors.

"What do I do? What do I do, think, Mikey, think." He said to himself as he stood. He darted into the kitchen and began opening drawer after drawer until he found a BBQ lighter and a roll of duct tape. He pulled them out and ran back to Raphael's side. He managed to thread the needle, and considering the unsteady state of his hands, this was something of a small miracle. He lit the BBQ lighter heating the needle and sterilizing it as best as he could.

Pulling the bloody t-shirt away he took one look at his brother's passive, grey, sweat drenched brow and looked back down. He stuck the needle through his brother's flesh and looked back at his brother's face. Raphael made no movement and he was thankful that his brother was unconscious as he performed the gruesome task of crudely sewing the laceration closed. He cut the thread when he had finished and surveyed his handy-work. The stitches were wide and uneven, but at least the bleeding had mostly stopped, though it still oozed slightly. He dumped a little bit of hydrogen peroxide on the wound and grabbed the box of feminine pads. He knew that if Raphael had been conscious, there was no way he would be able to do what he was about to do. In fact, he was pretty sure Raphael would rather die than have him use a maxi pad to stop the bleeding; which was why he was thankful that his difficult, hot headed brother was unconscious.

Opening the box he pulled out a pad and unwrapped it. He then placed it gently over the slowly oozing wound. He then took the duct tape and tore off a strip, taping the pad down.

This worked so well that he repeated the process on a few of the larger scrapes that marred his brother's legs and arms, his clothing having been shredded, exposing his skin to the rough asphalt.

Michelangelo checked his brother's breathing which seemed raspy at best; as if he was having trouble breathing, and his pulse was still too weak; barely even a flutter under his blood stained hands. He looked at his hands in horror; covered in his brother's blood.

He had caused this.

It was because he was playing a stupid prank that Raphael had been hit by the truck and now lay injured, possibly bleeding to death on April's couch; the crimson stains brilliant, damning proof of his culpable guilt.

"I'm sorry, Raph. I am so, so sorry." He choked out. He knelt down beside his unconscious brother, and gently brought up his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Come on Raphie, hang in there, Bro. Donny's on his way and he's gonna fix you up in no time. And…and then you're going to get better and then you're going to kick my ass, and I swear I won't pull any more pranks…ever. I promise."

Raphael made no movement, and no acknowledgement of his words.

Michelangelo closed his eyes not knowing what else to do.

Every sense felt hyper aware, every muscle was pulled tight and tensed, waiting for something, anything to happen. He felt on edge as if he had downed too many cans of soda and was now wired and without any sort of outlet to let loose all of his pent up energy.

A presence suddenly appeared behind him and adrenalin surged through every nerve in his body. Michelangelo didn't think, just reacted. He jumped to his feet, pulling his nunchucks from his belt, turning quickly he intended on attacking whoever it was who had crept silently up behind him.

April jumped back with a muffled yelp of surprise. "Mikey!" She squealed, holding up her hand in defense. "Mikey, what's going on?" She asked in alarm, her arms falling by their sides as she took in the living room and his bloodstained appearance.

Michelangelo followed her gaze. He had knocked over a lamp, a table, and a few nick-knacks. The bloody t-shirt lay on the rug slowly seeping into the fibers.

Michelangelo opened his mouth to answer his friend, but the only sound that came out was a wretched, miserable sob. He dropped his arms, his nunchucks falling to the floor as April paled, catching sight of Raphael's motionless body sprawled out on the couch.

"M-Mikey…i-is…is h-he…" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper as she stumbled over to the couch, her pale face paling even further as she saw Raphael's mangled body.

Michelangelo shook his head back and forth. "He…he's still alive, but he's hurt bad, April, a-and I don't know what to do!" He wailed wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

April walked forward and knelt down beside Raphael, gently brushing a hand across his brother's forehead. "What happened to him, Mikey?" She asked softly as she began a quick inspection of Raphael's numerous injuries.

Michelangelo explained what had happened; his words tumbling from his lips in a jumbled mess that he was pretty sure made almost no sense at all.

When April came across the duct taped maxi pads adorning Raphael's body, no smile even crossed her face. Her face remained pale, grim and impassive.

"His right femur is broken and his left arm is definitely dislocated. Besides all of the scratches and bruises I can't tell anything else and I don't want to move him. Though his breathing doesn't sound very good and his pulse is very weak." April told him quietly, her voice shaking slightly. "I-is Donny on his way?"

"Yeah." Michelangelo was able to answer.

"Okay, then we should try to get these clothes off so Donny can see what he's dealing with. We should clean away all of the blood and try to keep Raph warm and comfortable as possible, it might help with the shock he's in." April said as she grabbed the pair of scissors he had discarded and carefully began to cut his brother's jeans off. They didn't have tails and their plastrons ended just below where their belly buttons would be if they had any. Below that line their anatomy was more human than turtle, but still not completely human.

Michelangelo was about to protest April cutting Raphael's clothing off, but figured that it was going to happen anyway. And besides, April had seen them nearly naked on more than one occasion when she had stopped by unannounced and caught one of them in their underwear walking from the shower to their bedrooms. And April was human; it wasn't as if she would care what was under Raphael's boxer briefs anyway.

April pulled Raphael's pants away and Michelangelo had to quickly cover his mouth and swallow down the vomit that rolled up his throat.

Raphael's thigh bone hadn't pierced through the skin, but it was a close thing. Michelangelo could see the bulge of the bone out of place just under his brother's skin. April made a strange sound before looking back at Michelangelo.

"I need you to go to the kitchen and fill a large dish with soapy water. Bring me a clean cloth and some towels as well." She told him steadily, Michelangelo nodding gratefully; glad to be doing anything other than staring at his brother's leg.

When he got back, April was just finishing up cutting off the last of Raphael's jacket. Scraps of bloodied fabric now littered the floor around April's legs, like a silent proclamation of imminent death.

April bent Raphael's arm pulled it back and suddenly there was a sickening pop as the shoulder slid back into its socket. Michelangelo couldn't take anymore. Between the broken leg, the dislocated shoulder, the cracks that shot across his brother's bloodstained plastron and the bloody froth that bubbled up and out from Raphael's lips, Michelangelo lost it. He managed to make it to the bathroom and shove his head into the toilet before he puked. He vomited once more before he wiped a shaking hand across his mouth.

He stood and washed his bloodied hands, washing his mouth out and splashing some water onto his face before stumbling from the bathroom back to the living room.

He felt as if he was about to collapse, but forced his feet to move until he was standing by the couch again.

April had just finished washing the blood from his brother's body, the bowl by her side dark crimson, the bright white cloth stained with his brother's blood. April gently dried his brother's skin, which was covered with deep bruising. The removal of the blood helped Raphael look a little better, but not much.

April finally dragged a thick blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over Raphael's motionless body.

She then took one of Raphael's, calloused, scarred hands in her own smaller one.

"I-I think…He's not breathing right, Mikey. He sounds like he's gasping for air and there's a gurgling, wheezing sound when he exhales. H-he also shouldn't be bleeding from his mouth like he is. He probably has a collapsed lung and…and internal bleeding." She stammered her eyes wide with fear and helplessness. "H-how long did Donny say he was going to be?" She asked him, her voice desperate.

"I-I don't know." He answered miserably, shaking his head back and forth.

"I can't… I know a little basic first aid, but, Mikey, I don't know what to do for injuries this severe." Her voice contained a note of panic. "I can help Donny, but only because he tells me what to do, and I've never…I can't do this by myself." She told him wretchedly.

Michelangelo nodded numbly because there wasn't anything either of them could do until Donatello arrived. All they could do now was wait and hope that Raphael lasted that long.

April turned her attention back to Raphael. His brother's skin had turned a sickly molted grey, his eyes sunken into his face and ringed with dark circles. His mouth was open slightly as he gasped for air.

April reached out and laid a gentle hand on Raphael's cheek. "Come on, Big Guy." April whispered. "Hang in there. Donny's on his way, so don't you dare give up and die on me, okay?" April begged in a shaky voice.

Raphael's head lolled to the side as he opened his eyes slightly, before closing them again.

April looked at her hand in shock, Raphael having obviously squeezed it in response to her words.

Blood suddenly bubbled up from between Raphael's lips, a strange gagging, choking noise coming from his mouth.

"Raph!" Michelangelo shouted in terror as April quickly stood, trying to roll Raphael to his side so that he wouldn't drown in his own blood.

Raphael's body suddenly seized up, shaking violently as his eyes opened briefly before rolling back in his head and closing again.

"Raph!"April's voice broke in alarm as tears rolled down her pale white cheeks.

Michelangelo helped April to hold Raphael's flailing limbs down as he bucked on the couch before suddenly becoming frighteningly still.

Michelangelo and April both pulled back in shock, April's hands flying to check his brother's pulse.

She made a choked sound of denial as she leaned down and placed her head on firmly Raphael's chest, right over his heart. "H-he's not breathing, and I can't hear a heartbeat." She sobbed out in panic.

Michelangelo felt his world blacken around the edges as he tried to hold onto consciousness and sanity.

April tilted Raphael's head back and leaning forward, blew a puff of air into his unmoving lungs.

Michelangelo realized that she was trying to resuscitate Raphael and placed his hands carefullyon his brother's chest, delivering three good pumps and pausing as April blew another puff of air into Raphael's mouth.

"Come on, Raph!" Michelangelo begged. "Donny's almost here! Please just, hold on!"

"Don't you dare do this to me, Raphael." April hissed angrily. "Please, please don't die." She cried out.

Michelangelo continued to desperately pump his brother's chest, both doing everything they could to save Raphael's life; but somehow, Michelangelo had the feeling that everything wasn't good enough.

* * *

***sniff* poor Raphie!**

**Thoughts an opinions are always appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello all! Sorry this chapter took so long to post, but my wonderful, awesome beta, Amonraphoenix( thank you so much for beta readuing this! You are awesome!) has been swamped with school and life in general, but took the time out of her busy schedule to do this for me.**

**Also a big giant thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, it was greatly appreciated!**

**and now on with the show...**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Michelangelo's** eyes widened as he heard something; like the whisper of air through a rusty gate. He put out a hand and listened again, hoping that his ears were not playing tricks on him. He heard it again, a low, wheezing, unhealthy, but strangely beautiful sound that brought tears to his eyes and a choked sob of relief from between his lip. His shakings fingers managed to find a faint pulse at Raphael's throat.

April looked at him wide-eyed, her face unnaturally pale and streaked with tears, a fearful, disbelieving look on her face.

"H-he's alive," Michelangelo stammered as he tried to calm his friends' fears. She blinked at his words, her whole body slumping with relief.

There was the sound of a thump and running feet. Michelangelo's head shot around as he looked at Donatello with unrivaled relief. Michelangelo felt himself crumble at the sight of his amethyst masked brother. Leonardo followed quickly after, but Michelangelo only had a vague impression of his oldest brother, his entire focus upon Donatello, who was looking worried.

Donatello's eyes widened in shock as his gaze roved over Raphael's bruised, bloody and battered face. Michelangelo scrambled out of the way to allow Donatello better access to Raphael.

"He...Donny, he wasn't breathing and his heart stopped. W-we just got his heart going again and...and-" Michelangelo was cut short by a hand clamping down on his shoulder. He looked over at Leonardo, whose face was somber, lips pulled down into a worried frown.

"Breathe, Mikey," Leonardo ordered softly as Donatello knelt down at Raphael's side, pulling back the blanket and letting out a strangled gasp of horror.

Leonardo turned his head and paled as he looked at Raphael's mangled body and spider web cracked plastron, still stained blue from Michelangelo's prank.

Donatello checked Raphael's vital signs and his frown deepened. "Leo, Mikey, I need you to help me move him. I can't work with him on the couch like this. April, I need you to clear off your table, get some plastic and throw it down on the tabletop." Donatello's voice was brisk, but contained an edge of anxious panic that he was obviously trying to repress.

Michelangelo and Leonardo each took one end of the backboard Donatello had brought with him and readied themselves as Donatello and April gently shifted Raphael onto the board, strapping him down. Donatello's frown deepened when Raphael didn't utter a single sound as they moved him.

Michelangelo lifted his end at the same time Leonardo did. April dashed to her kitchen and pulled out a wad of garbage bags, laying them haphazardly on the table. They carefully walked with Raphael over to the table and waited while Donatello and April shifted Raphael again, laying him flat upon his carapace and placing blankets under Raphael's head and around his shell to stabilize him.

Donatello quickly rushed over to the sink, washing his hands before turning his attention back to Raphael and his horrific injuries.

The lights from the light fixture above the kitchen table blazed down upon Raphael, and in the harsher, brighter light of the kitchen, Michelangelo could finally see how badly hurt his brother really was.

If it wasn't for the faint, subtle rise and fall of his brother's plastron, Michelangelo would have sworn that his brother was dead he lay so still upon the table.

Michelangelo could feel his lungs closing up, his heart beating in his chest like a frightened bird as he watched Donatello inspect Raphael's plastron, legs, arms, sides and all of the other injuries he had suffered. He then carefully removed each and every pad and band-aid that had been placed on Raphael's body.

Donatello's face remained impassive, grim and eerily quiet as he made his quick inspection. His face became more worried as he frowned, pressing against Raphael's side and then looking down the length of Raphael's body.

Donatello finally spoke, his words rushed and becoming frantic. "April, I need you to wash up, now! We've got to get him prepped for surgery. Leo you too, wash up, put on a pair of gloves, they're in my bag, and get an IV going. He needs a saline drip and a blood transfusion."

Donatello ran to the living room, bringing a large dark duffel bag which was slung over his shoulder, as well as and a cooler that he held in his other hand.

Leonardo followed Donatello's instructions and began readying an IV, which he inserted into the crook of Raphael's elbow. Michelangelo fell back, obviously in the way. He wanted to help, but knew he couldn't.

Donatello inserted a needle into Raphael's neck and Michelangelo felt the familiar roll of nausea hit his stomach as he swallowed down the acidic bile that rose up in his throat.

He assumed that whatever Donatello had given his brother was either for the pain, or more likely, an anesthetic.

Donatello picked up a scalpel and quickly cut deeply into Raphael's right side. Blood bubbled up and out and Michelangelo felt his world go black as he slipped to the floor in an unconscious heap.

* * *

**Donatello** watched Michelangelo slip to the floor out of the corner of his eye, but was helpless to stop his baby brother's collapse. Luckily Leonardo was able to catch Michelangelo before he hit his head on the floor.

"Leo, stay with Mikey, but get him out of here," Donatello ordered briskly.

Donatello swallowed down the lump of terror that had lodged itself in his throat. He was trying to remain calm and collected. His family needed him to be composed and able to think straight and rationally, but right now, he felt as if his very sanity was hanging by a very fine thread that was about to snap at any moment.

A cold terror had gripped his heart the moment Michelangelo's frantic phone call came in, and seeing the state Raphael was in only deepened his fear that Raphael wasn't going to survive his grievous injuries.

He stomped down on this dark thought and took a deep, calming breath. He needed to focus on saving Raphael's life, and not give into the desire to curl into a miserable ball of sobbing wretchedness at the horrifyingly daunting task of saving his brother's life.

He tried to look at his brother's injuries as if he was observing everything unemotionally and professionally, but right now, every single second counted. He needed to act before any chance Raphael had of surviving this night slipped through his fingers, and then Raphael's death would be entirely upon him.

His eyes quickly assessed his brother, his mind working furiously to determine which injuries should be treated first. He swore softly under his breath when he felt Raphael's side.

Raphael was bleeding internally. He looked at Raphael's face. His skin was grey, lips shading to blue, which meant that cyanosis was beginning to set it. Not enough oxygen was getting to the tissues just under Raphael's skin. Thankfully he knew that the blue staining of Raphael's plastron and arms were the result of Michelangelo's prank and not extreme cyanosis, which would be fatal.

Raphael's breathing was becoming worse, low, and strained as he fought for every breath. His heartbeat was also irregular and sluggish and his blood pressure was dropping fast.

He swallowed. "April, defibrillator, now," he ordered. He was going to try to shock Raphael's heart back into a more normal rhythm before Raphael's heart went into full cardiac arrest. Then he would deal with the fact that Raphael was bleeding internally and needed oxygen.

The distinctive whine of the defibrillator charging filled the apartment. He took the modified paddles which were two heavy gauge needles that he would be able pierce into his brother's flesh, because their plastrons impeded the flow of the charge. "Clear!" he called out as he placed the needles into Raphael's flesh, just above his plastron, angling them downwards towards his brother's heart. His brother's body jumped from the table as the electricity coursed through him.

"Come on, Raph," he encouraged.

Leonardo hovered nearby, his face pale and full of fear and worry. It was obvious that his older brother wanted answers, but he couldn't give them to him, not yet.

He gave the needles to April who took them wordlessly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she grimly waited for his diagnosis. He checked his brother's pulse, which was still weak and uneven.

He swallowed. "Again. And increase the charge," he said as he took the needles from April as the whine of the defibrillator filled the small apartment.

He could hear Michelangelo's choked sob -which meant that his baby brother had regained consciousness- and Leonardo's quiet, murmured words of comfort. Donatello tried to block them out as he plunged the needles into Raphael again and his brother's body leapt from the table a second time as the charge travelled through his body.

He handed off the needles and checked his brother's pulse, his shoulder sagging slightly in relief when he felt the weak but regular beat of his brother's heart. He nodded to April indicating that they were good.

"Raph's bleeding internally. I won't know what internal injuries he's suffered until I open him up. I don't want to have to cut through his plastron, so hopefully I will be able to see what is going on by opening up his right side," he softly told April who nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Okay," she whispered shakily as everything narrowed down to the pinpoint task of saving Raphael's life.

Hours steadily slipped by as he began to realize the full extent of his brother's injuries. Donatello believed that the only reason that Raphael hadn't been killed outright was because of his plastron, which had taken the brunt of the impact of the vehicle that had struck him.

He didn't know why Raphael had been hit, or what had happened, and at the moment, he didn't care, all he wanted was for Raphael to be able to survive whatever had happened.

Donatello blinked as he set the last stitch in Raphael's side, having removed Michelangelo's crude stitches and replacing them with his own.

He felt dead tired, or more like the walking dead, both analogies were completely accurate at that moment. It had taken him nearly fifteen hours to perform all of the surgery he had to do to his older brother -if the time on the clock on the stove was correct.

Donatello was amazed that Raphael had manage to survive both the night as well as the surgeries. Donatello knew that is was touch and go for a while there, and also knew that Raphael was not out of the woods yet; not even close.

He pulled off his gloves as April did the same. He looked at his long-time friend and noted that she looked awful; though Donatello doubted that he looked much better.

Her cheeks were too pale and dark rings of worry and exhaustion were smudged beneath her bloodshot eyes. Her copper hair had pulled loose from her ponytail in places and hung limply around her drawn face.

He stepped away from the table, dragging his hands down his face as he readied Raphael to be moved.

"The bedroom." April said as they carefully lifted Raphael back onto the backboard so that he could be moved from the table. He and April handled Raphael with care as they walked slowly to April's bedroom and settled Raphael carefully onto the queen-sized bed.

They couldn't move Raphael back to the lair as his condition was barely stable, so they had decided that Raphael would have stay at April's. They also agreed that it would be easier to look after Raphael in a bed as opposed to on a couch. It would also be more comfortable for him and as April lived in a one bedroom apartment, they had no choice but to place Raphael in her bedroom and impose upon her until Raphael was deemed well enough to be moved back home.

Donatello walked from the room to the kitchen again, picking up the portable heart monitor, oxygen tank, and IV pole, taking them to April's bedroom. April quickly rushed forward setting up the saline bag as well as another bag of blood. Donatello hooked up his brother's oxygen and place the heart monitor on his finger again as they had had to remove the oxygen tank and heart monitor when they had moved Raphael.

He checked Raphael's vitals one more time. The heart monitor showed that Raphael's heartbeat was steady and that his blood pressure was slowly improving. His brother's face was still overly pale, but had lost the grey-green and blue colour of earlier, meaning enough oxygen was getting to all of his brother's tissues.

April volunteered to watch over him, even though she looked ready to drop. The only reason Donatello agreed to this was because he needed to talk with his brothers.

"I'll be back in a few minutes to watch over him. You need to get some rest." He then realized that Raphael was lying in her bed, so she actually couldn't go to bed. "I'm really sorry about imposing on you like this," he said softly to his long-time friend.

April's eyes widened in shock. "Donny, you know that you guys are always welcome here. I wish there was more I could do." She brushed her fingers over her eyes, wiping away the tears that had formed on her lashes. She took a deep breath, managing to pull herself together. "I just...I just hope that Raph is going to be okay," she finished softly, reaching out and taking his brother's limp hand in her own.

Donatello nodded in agreement, thankful to have such a good friend. "Thanks, April, for everything," he said sincerely as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. April reached up with her free hand and placed her hand over his own.

"You need your rest too, Donny," she told him seriously, looking up at him. "And I can sleep on the couch, that's fine, I don't mind."

Donatello nodded knowing that none of them would be getting much sleep, no matter how much they wished to.

"He's going to be fine," April said looking back at Raphael's motionless body.

"I know," he lied, because he didn't really know if Raphael would be okay. But he knew that April needed the false reassurance, just as much as he needed her to tell him that Raphael was going to be fine as well.

He pulled his cold hand away from her warmth and steeled himself against what he had to tell his brothers about Raphael's condition and prognosis.

He left the bedroom and walked to the living room. Donatello hadn't explained anything about Raphael's condition yet, too concerned about Raphael to bother with such niceties. He walked into the room feeling as if he was going to collapse where he stood if he didn't sit. Leonardo and Michelangelo were both sitting on the couch. Michelangelo was curled into Leonardo, dried tears having left white salty trails down his pale cheeks. Leonardo was talking softly, giving Michelangelo all the comfort he could as he gently rubbed his carapace. However, as soon as Donatello entered the room, Leonardo froze, quickly looking up, his face shuttered and blank. Leonardo looked as if he was about to stand, but Donatello motioned for him to stay seated.

He slumped into a slightly worn brown leather chair, sinking into the cushion and letting out a small sigh of relief to be off his feet.

Both of his brothers looked at him anxiously. Leonardo was pale, grim, and his eyes were filled with apprehension. Donatello could tell that his oldest brother was trying to clamp down on all of his emotions and remain supportive and calm for all of them, but something in Donatello's own expression made Leonardo's collected exterior crack slightly, his face paling even more, his hands trembling slightly.

Michelangelo on the other hand was a trembling mess. His face was grey-green and beaded with sweat. He clutched a pillow tightly to his chest, knuckles whitening even more as he looked anxiously at Donatello, his eyes filling with tears.

Leonardo looked over at Michelangelo and pulled him in closer. Both sets of his brother's eyes looked at him, begging him to give them good news.

Donatello swallowed, cleared his throat and leaned forward. He clasped his hands together and wondered where he would even begin.

"Raph's stable…for now," he told them first off, trying to calm their fears slightly. "But…his injuries are…extensive."

Michelangelo let out a small miserable, but quickly silenced squeak.

Donatello continued. "Raphael suffered from a punctured and collapsed lung, broken ribs, ureter tear of his kidney, liver hemorrhage, broken femur, a deep laceration to his left side, probable concussion, hyperextension of his spine, various contusions, lacerations and... I may have missed something," he explained his heart gripped with the profound fear that he may have missed some crucial injury due to lack of technology and resources. "I did what I could with what I had available."

"Is he going to be okay?" Leonardo's words were strangely enunciated, as if concentrating on each syllable that exited his mouth was the only thing keeping him from breaking down.

Donatello avoided his brother's pleading gazes. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Right now, all we can do is wait and see. The first 24 hours are crucial, we'll watch over him and reassess him when he wakes up."

Leonardo blinked as if not quite processing his words and Michelangelo pulled away from Leonardo's side.

"T-that's it?" Michelangelo stammered.

Donatello closed his eyes. "If Raphael manages to survive his injuries, his recovery will be slow, but he will eventually recover."

"So…he'll be okay?" Leonardo re-affirmed, latching onto the only words of hope Donatello had offered to give.

Donatello winced before opening his eyes and looking at his oldest brother. "I'll do everything I can," he answered, because it was the only answer he could give without lying. He was able to lie to April earlier because April knew it was a lie, the lie that needed to be shared to give comfort and hope. But he couldn't lie to his brothers because they would mistake his lie for truth, and at the moment, he didn't feel confident in any prognosis he could give them. He didn't know the full extent of his brother's injuries because he didn't have the proper medical equipment to ascertain that sort of thing. He didn't even have the ability to give Raphael an x-ray, which would have helped greatly in diagnosing many of Raphael's injuries.

Donatello cleared his throat having left the most distressing news for last. If Raphael survived he would recover, but the extent of his recovery relied on a few very important factors.

"There are a few things though that…that you need to understand," he began slowly.

Michelangelo visibly swallowed, his eyes going wide with fear. Leonardo seemed to stop breathing, becoming highly alert, his attention focused on every word Donatello spoke.

"I don't have access to an x-ray machine, which means that I don't know if Raphael suffered any spinal injuries or the extent of his head trauma," he warned.

Leonardo straightened. "What are you trying to say, Donny?" he asked his voice tense, sharp and demanding.

Michelangelo looked back and forth between Donatello and Leonardo, his eyes full of fear and confusion as he crushed the pillow even more tightly to his chest, his body shaking.

"I am saying that we have to prepare for the possibility that Raphael might be paralyzed," Donatello spoke softly but clearly.

Michelangelo let out a choked gasp of horror. Leonardo's eyes widened, his face becoming grimmer, his fists clenching tightly as he tried to rein in his emotions.

Donatello swallowed and then continued. "Raphael also sustained a severe blow to the head. I will monitor him closely and hope that there is no swelling or bleeding on his brain. But because I don't know what kind of trauma he suffered and although I think the chances are small, it is possible that he may have either temporary or permanent brain damage as well."

The silence that filled the room after his pronouncement was thick, heavy and full of shock and horror.

Donatello didn't know how long Leonardo and Michelangelo sat there staring at him as if he was suddenly going to smile and tell them that he was just joking, but Leonardo was finally able to pull himself together enough to formulate a coherent sentence.

"Can we see him?" Leonardo asked in a strained voice.

Donatello nodded. "Two at a time. The room is too small, especially with all of the machines taking up space," he warned. "I need to get some sleep and so does April. I need you two to watch him and if anything changes, and I mean ANYTHING, I need you to wake me up."

Leonardo nodded, pulling away from Michelangelo and standing. "Get some rest, Donny, we'll watch over him."

Donatello leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. He didn't even hear his brothers leave the room.

* * *

**Leonardo** watched as Donatello practically passed out right where he sat, closing his eyes and falling asleep almost immediately.

He knew how Donatello felt. He was exhausted, but hadn't been able to sleep. Michelangelo had cried himself to sleep, and had managed to get at least a few hours of rest. He on the other hand felt too tense and worried for sleep. He forced himself to stay awake, to remain alert in case Donatello needed his help, or in case Donatello came from the kitchen to update them on Raphael's condition, good news or bad.

Leonardo's heart had remained clenched with fear, a lead ball sitting in his stomach making him feel nauseous. He had tried to talk to Michelangelo and find out what had happened, but Michelangelo would only say that Raphael was hit by a truck because he had been distracted, and that it was all his fault. Leonardo had eventually given up, because it wasn't really important at the moment. He had then tried to calm Michelangelo down, but his efforts were futile. Michelangelo was beyond consoling, his words of comfort falling upon deaf ears. But Leonardo continued to talk, needing to do something to take his mind off of the fact that Raphael lay in April's kitchen, a broken bloody mess of mangled flesh, broken bones, fighting desperately for his life.

When Donatello had finally emerged, Leonardo had sat with anxious dread, awaiting their brother's verdict on Raphael's condition. He had refused to let any tears fall, knowing that he had to be strong for all of his brothers, but the exhausted, grim look on Donatello's face made his vision blur with sudden tears that he had to quickly blink back. A lump had formed in his throat that he had to force down, believing that Raphael hadn't made it; dying on April's table.

Donatello began talking, listing Raphael's injuries and leaving it at that. His medic brother had calmly explained everything, but it was his final words that made his skin tingle with pins and needles, and his heart to plummet with dread. His mind attempted to process Donatello's words. The thought that Raphael may be paralyzed was horrifying enough, the thought that Raphael may have received brain damage was even worse.

Leonardo managed to take a deep breath. Donatello had said, 'may' and 'might', not 'had'. There was still a chance that Raphael would make a full and complete recovery, no worse the wear for his experience, but a few more impressive scars to add to the ones he already had.

He had then managed to get his brain functioning again as he realized that Donatello was going to collapse with exhaustion. He had then asked to go and see Raphael, and Donatello had agreed before promptly falling asleep sitting up in the leather chair.

He pulled a trembling Michelangelo with him and they slowly walked into April's bedroom. For as many times as he had been to April's apartment, he had never spent any time in her bedroom. He studied the light beige walls and the maple coloured side tables with matching dresser. There was a book case tucked into the corner filled with books and nick-knacks.

Leonardo looked everywhere but at the bed, because he was steeling himself for what he was going to see. He finally forced his eyes to the bed and felt his world swim slightly at the sight before him.

April had been adjusting Raphael's blanket exposing layers of bandages, deep bruising and a removable cast.

Michelangelo had made it to the bed and let out a low moan mixed with a choked sob. April quickly covered Raphael up to his chin, swiftly turning and trying to steady Michelangelo, who began to sway slightly on his feet.

Leonardo knew he should have been the one to perform this function, but he seemed unable to move, his eyes locked upon Raphael's motionless form as he lay on the bed.

"Go get some rest, April, we'll look after Raph," he heard his voice say. April looked up as she seated Michelangelo in the rickety wooden chair that had been pulled up next to the bed.

April looked at him with concern. "Are you sure?" she asked softly, her voice cracking with exhaustion.

"Yeah," Leonardo agreed with a nod of his head.

"Okay," April said as she brushed her hand across a small portion of Raphael's cheek that wasn't covered with bruising, stitching or bandages.

Leonardo stepped out of April's way as she walked from the room. Michelangelo slid forward and took Raphael's hand in his own. His baby brother seemed incapable of speech and instead buried his face in Raphael's covers, letting out a small sob every few minutes.

Michelangelo finally stood and walked around to the other side of the bed climbing onto it and settling himself next to Raphael, curling into their brother's body as much as he was able to.

Leonardo was about to protest, but stopped himself. Michelangelo wasn't hurting or jostling Raphael in any way, and besides, it may be good for Raphael to know that he was surrounded by his family.

Leonardo walked over and practically fell into the hard wooden chair. He leaned back, his eyes skimming the numbers that flashed across the heart monitor. He listened to the steady, lulling electronic beat of his brother's heart; tangible evidence that his brother was still alive.

Leonardo heard a slight moan and his eyes flew open, instantly alert, his heart suddenly hammering in his chest. Leonardo blinked in shock realizing that he had fallen asleep, and had no idea how long he had been sleeping for.

His eyes shot to Raphael whose head moved slightly, another faint groan issuing from his lips.

Leonardo shot to his feet calling Donatello's name. Michelangelo suddenly awoke, sitting up on the bed, eyes filled with hope and fear.

Donatello ran into the room, a look of panic etched upon his face.

"I think he's waking up," Leonardo quickly explained as April followed closely on Donatello's heels.

Donatello checked the heart monitor and opened one of Raphael's eyes and shined a penlight into it. Raphael's beak scrunched up and he turned his head away slightly, eliciting a slight moan of irritation at the intrusive bright light.

Donatello turned the light off and began to talk softly to Raphael, motioning for everyone to be quiet.

"Leo?" Raphael mumbled as he cracked open his eyes slightly.

Donatello frowned. "It's me, Donny," Donatello said gently. "How are you feeling?"

Raphael groaned, shifted, and winced in pain. "Like I was hit by a truck," he grumbled.

"Good, you remember what happened," Donatello said with a slight, relieved smile.

"What happened?" Raphael asked his amber eyes slightly glazed with pain.

"The accident," Donatello replied slowly in uncertainty.

"What accident?" Raphael asked in confusion, his eyes seeming to focus.

Donatello looked at Michelangelo whose eyes were wide with terror.

"It's not unusual to forget a traumatic event," Donatello said soothingly to Raphael, but also to the rest of the occupants of the room.

"Are you in any pain?" Donatello asked.

"Yeah," Raphael answered. "Everythin' hurts."

"Okay-"

"Head hurts the worst though." Raphael interrupted.

Donatello gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. "Do you know who you are?" he asked.

Raphael frowned his eyes narrowing in irritation. "Yes." Donatello waited and Raphael gave a slight roll of his eyes. "Raphael."

"Do you know what day it is?" Donatello asked.

"No idea. Depends how long I've been knocked out," Raphael answered pithily.

Leonardo found himself smiling and his shoulders sagging in relief.

"About 28 hours," Donatello answered. "Do you know where you are?"

Raphael closed his eyes, wincing in pain. "In my bed," he answered.

Donatello frowned but Raphael hadn't actually looked around the room to ascertain his whereabouts.

"Where's April?" Raphael asked suddenly his eyes shooting open in panic.

"I'm here," April said getting as close as she could to the bed.

"You're okay? You weren't hurt?" he asked insistently.

"I'm fine." April answered in baffled confusion as she knelt down beside the bed. Raphael's fingers brushed gently across her cheek. "I was out with a few girlfriends." She added softly as Raphael's fingers fell away in relief.

Leonardo's eyes widened slightly at Raphael's caress of April's cheek, but his attention returned to Raphael as he spoke closing his eyes again.

"I can't remember what happened," Raphael said softly. He reached up one of his hands and clutched at his head.

"I don't feel so good, Donny," Raphael groaned.

"Okay, Raph," Donatello soothed. "I just need you to do one more thing for me and then I will give you some stronger pain medication and you can go back to sleep, okay?"

Raphael nodded, hand still clutched to his head.

Donatello pulled the blankets off his brother's feet before asking him, "Can you move your toes for me," he requested, his voice attempting to sound nonchalant

Leonardo's eyes shot down to Raphael's feet, praying that his brother's toes would move. It was obvious that Raphael could use his arms, but Donatello had to still be worried about a spine injury having robbed Raphael of the ability to walk.

Raphael sucked in a hiss of air; eyes squeezed tightly shut, teeth clenched together in pain.

"Raph?" Donatello asked, his voice shaking slightly when his brother's toes didn't move. Donatello looked back at Raphael's face in fear.

Blood slowly began to trickle from his nose and ears.

"Leo, I don't feel like training today, the mashed potatoes are too lumpy," Raphael moaned, clutching at his head and stomach.

Leonardo's eyes shot to Donatello, his mind filling with terrified horror.

"I think I jusht goin toooo," Raphael's words suddenly became slurred.

Donatello moved quickly prying one of Raphael's eyes open. "His pupil dilation is-" he never got to finish his sentence as Raphael's body began to shake and thrash violently.

"Donny!" Leonardo screamed in terror as he leapt forward to help to hold Raphael down.

"Possible cranial hemotoma!" Donatello shouted in panic, his words meaning absolutely nothing to Leonardo. "He has bleeding on his brain!" Donatello clarified, as all eyes shot to Raphael whose body suddenly stopped thrashing, laying frighteningly still.

* * *

**I know I am soooo evil! T**

**houghts and opinions are always welcome!**


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